


Love Takes Hold

by maybesandsomedays, ohfiitz



Series: HYDRA AU [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Fluff without Plot, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Snapshots, for a change, not really much angst, pregnancy fluff, tbh, this is more of a series of one-shots than a multi-chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-04-30 19:56:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5177723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybesandsomedays/pseuds/maybesandsomedays, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohfiitz/pseuds/ohfiitz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is what happens in the after: After HYDRA. After S.H.I.E.L.D. After leaving their lives to find and build a new one. This is what happens after the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. you got your lips on mine, it's gasoline on fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE BITCH I BET YOU THOUGHT YOU'D SEEN THE LAST OF THIS UNIVERSE
> 
> So ok brief explanation: 'Stay' wasn't really meant to end like it did. We always planned for it to run at least until after [spoiler] Jemma gave birth, but somehow we felt that everything we've written after Chapter 12 didn't quite fit, so we decided to just end the story there. However, we had lots of other scenes already written and planned (and also we have zero chill) so ta-da! This is gonna be like a 'deleted scenes' DVD bonus of some sort. Whatever. So yeah, there's really not much plot here. Just snippets of what the FitzSimmons life is like after [spoiler] running away and such.
> 
> Enjoy! And lots of love, as always, to all of you reading this.
> 
> Oh and this first chapter is def NSFW. Babies' first smut. Yikes.
> 
> Title is from Capture by Sleeping at Last and chapter title is from Somewhere In My Car by Keith Urban.

 

Twelve days, six states, and countless cups of cheap coffee after leaving their old lives behind, Fitz and Simmons find themselves stuck with empty stomachs and a broken down car. Frankly, it was meant to happen at some point. If there’s anything the couple learned from the past fortnight, it’s that you could only run away so far before the earth tries to pull you back and try to make you stay somewhere, anywhere, even just for a moment, just enough to remind you why you are running in the first place.

Fitz sighs as he slides back into the car after trying to check under the bonnet, only to be interrupted by the sudden pour of rain. “Well, there’s nothing I can do. Carburetor’s broken, and the mechanic won’t be here for two hours at least.”

“You’re soaked,” Jemma observes, tilting her head and not even bothering to conceal the breathy rasp of her voice.

Fitz looks down at himself, raising an arm to inspect it. They haven’t really done anything of the sexual sort since leaving—after all, a pregnancy and the looming presence of two of the world’s biggest intelligence organizations aren’t exactly aphrodisiac—but he’d recognize that particular tone anywhere, and he’d be damned if he didn’t jump at the chance to satisfy both of them. “Hmm yeah, I guess I am.”

“Are you going to do something about that?” Jemma asks, slightly frustrated with how he’s choosing to tease.

Fitz slumps back on his seat and crosses his arms, trying not to laugh at Jemma’s lack of subtlety.

“I don’t know…are you?”

She stares at him another moment, taking him in and breathing heavily, and then she surges forward and kisses him. He responds eagerly, mouth moving against hers in a rather desperate pace, and he hears a growl issue deep from his throat as she sucks on his tongue.

“We need something to do while we wait,” she says as Fitz presses a trail of kisses down her neck. “And it’ll warm you—oh _god_ —it’ll warm you from the rain—”

 _God,_ she missed this. Missed the thrill of giving in to that tempting, almost-unholy pull of lust, and the danger of getting caught. Over the course of the year, her relationship with Fitz has grown beyond purely carnal desire and into something deeper and softer and more, but there are times when she wishes they could go back to the burning ferocity of their early days. 

“Then it’s obviously the logical choice,” Fitz responds easily, grinning against her skin.

“Obviously.”

He captures her lips again and she starts fumbling for his belt, but he stops her. “Wait...we should be in the back. Um. More space.”

She huffs in annoyance and reluctantly peels away from him to clamber into the backseat, hurriedly stripping off her clothes in the process. She reaches back to unclasp her bra but stops when she realizes that Fitz is just gaping at her from the front seat.

“Fitz!” She tries to break his trance but Fitz just hums in response, eyes still glued to her lace-covered breasts.

She places her hands on her waist, trying to express her irritation, but the gesture only improved the view of her breasts and she watches Fitz’s jaw drop alarmingly low. _Honestly. Such a typical male._ “Are you gonna fuck me or should I take care of this myself?”

Fitz inadvertently lets out a small whine at that—although frankly, the thought of watching her “take care” of things doesn’t sound so bad—but it snaps him out of his daze and he follows her to the back, placing a hand on each boob in awe.

“They’re so _big_ now,” he says.

Jemma scrunches her nose. “And sore, so maybe we won’t have too much playing with my breasts?”

Fitz snaps his hands back. “Right, yeah, sorry.”

“Well, I didn’t say _none_. But get this bra off me, it hurts.” As he obliges, she unzips his pants and pulls him out, stroking him leisurely and enjoying his tiny groans. “We should go shopping for maternity clothes after this. I can’t wear these things anymore.”

“Yeah,” he agrees dreamily, his eyes drifting down to the tiny swell of her belly. He places a gentle kiss on the bump, pecks each of her nipples, then stares back into her eyes.

“You’re beautiful.”

His whisper blows a warm breath to where his mouth had been, and she shivers with acute pleasure, tugging on his soft curls as a not-so-gentle plea to continue his ministrations.

“I’m pregnant.”

“Beautiful,” Fitz repeats, pausing to trace a path around her areola with his tongue. “And I used to think you couldn’t get any more gorgeous, but you’re proving me wrong.”

“You like it when I prove you wrong.” Jemma sucks in a breath, fighting back her moans as Fitz wraps his warm lips around one nipple and flicks his tongue against the hardened nub.

“Mmm,” Fitz hums against her breast, sliding his hand lower and tracing the lacy edges of her now-soaked knickers with his fingers. He soon slips them under the thin fabric, stroking through her wetness slowly, deliberately, until she’s panting out his name.

She soon finds herself bucking up against his hand, begging him for more. He presses a trail of soft kisses up her jaw and stops to suck on the spot behind her ear, whispering as he lightly circles her clit with his middle finger: “And you like it when I do this, don’t you?”

Her eyes are shut but she can almost see the smirk on his face as he says it, and she struggles to get a response out through her sharp gasps and low moans.

“I hate it when you do that,” she finally manages. “Know what I want.”

Fitz’s face lights up, and she reaches up to take his dick in her hand, giving him a few more lazy strokes before finally guiding him to her entrance.

They each let out a contented sound once he’s settled inside. “Is that okay?” Fitz asks.

“Mmm, perfect. I really like your cock. Feels — _ah, fuck_ —amazing.”

“I know,” he says with a smirk, and he starts to move back to thrust but pauses all of a sudden. “We forgot a condom.”

Jemma fixes him with a deadpan look that says _oh, come on_. “For what? To avoid pregnancy?”

“Oh. Right.”

She rolls her eyes and grabs his hips, bringing him in deeper. “Fuck me, Fitz,” she gasps, and Fitz needs no further prompting. He rocks his hips back and forth, creating an almost-fast pace that she apparently enjoys, judging from the way her moans are getting louder and her grip, tighter. He lets out a grunt with each thrust and kisses her all around her neck, collarbone, breasts, and face.

She lets out a loud yelp after a particularly delicious stroke of his cock, and Fitz hitches her right leg up to his waist to improve the angle, wanting to give her as much pleasure as she needs. He leans down to nibble on her earlobe, grunting her name over and over in time with his deep thrusts.

“That’s it, babygirl,” he mumbles against her skin, urging her further towards the edge. “Come for me.”

One final time does it for her, and her body explodes. Fitz holds her through it, rocking his hips just the way she likes it and reaching his fingers down to rub at her, all the while murmuring “come for me, you’re doing great, I love you.”

A moment after she comes down from the high, she notices the sensation of Fitz still hard inside her and she grins, shifting to get a nicer angle. “Come out now, I have an idea,” she says, and Fitz looks at her quizzically but does as she asks and pulls out of her. She immediately misses him, but she happily reaches up to take his dick in her hand.

He lets out a strangled moan when she first grasps it, and as she works her hand up and down, they get shorter and louder.

Jemma lifts her head and kisses the tip of his penis, and Fitz gaps loudly, his fingers gripping her shoulder so tightly his knuckles turn white.

“You close?”

“ _Fuck_ yes.”

Without releasing her grip, she directs him back into her. “No condom—it’ll be a mess,” she explains, but Fitz is too far gone to care.

He’s soon pulsing with his orgasm, desperately straining to keep himself upright and not collapse onto her belly, and Jemma revels in how nice it feels for it all to go inside her.

Jemma turns onto her side with her back against the seat and Fitz fits himself next to her, and she cuddles up to him.

“That was nice,” she says.

“I know. We’re great at this.” Fitz smiles to himself and kisses the top of her head.

Jemma chuckles at that and swats his chest weakly with the back of her hand. “Oh, shut up.”

As their breathing settle down slowly, along with the rain, Jemma finds herself smiling at the warm sensation burrowing into her chest. It’s a mixture of satisfaction and adoration and excitement, and for the first time in twelve days, six states, and countless cups of coffee, she falls asleep in peace.

 


	2. so i sing the song of love

“Do you think we can stop for a break?” Jemma asks, voice squeaking as she tries to fix her eyes in front of her. She wrings her hands in her lap and fights the shaky breaths threatening to come out, hoping that Fitz doesn’t pick up on her nerves.

She feels his right hand cover her own and he lifts it to his lips for a soft kiss as he drives.

“Jemma, it’s going to be fine. I promise.”

Her face breaks into a smile as she feels his warm lips on her shivering hands, but it does little to ease her worries. “She’s gonna hate me,” she says, rubbing the back of his knuckles with her thumb.

“Nonsense, she’ll adore you. You’re lovely,” he murmurs.

“I’m a _monster_ ,” she spits out. “A monster is dating her son and having her grandchild. How could she adore me?”

It’s only then that Fitz stops the car, pausing to watch her fiddle with their fingers for a few moments before gently pulling at her hand.

“C’mere.”

He scoops Jemma in his arms and she curls into him, pulling up her legs in a sideward position to be able to press closer to him.

“Listen. My mum is a smart person and she’s not gonna think any of that nonsense, and neither should you.”

Jemma looks up at him with big, doubtful eyes. “You really think she won’t?”

“I know she won’t.”

Jemma takes a deep breath and pushes herself up with her hands on the seat. “Alright, then. Let’s go.”

She starts to move to open the door but Fitz grabs her hand and pulls her back.

“Wait. One last thing,” he says with a playful smirk before leaning in to kiss her deeply. “You’re gonna do great. You’re amazing and I love you.”

Chasing her with one last peck on the lips, he finally lets her go.

* * *

They arrive at the Fitz residence, an old bungalow nestled in the outskirts of Glasgow, shortly after dusk. Fitz practically bounces with excitement as he drives through the familiar path leading to the house, gripping Jemma’s trembling hand encouragingly. Eva Fitz is expecting them, waiting outside on a porch swing in the garden, and when they pull up she immediately bustles over to their car and hugs Fitz the moment he steps out.

“Hey, Mum,” he says, grinning.

“Ah, I’ve missed you,” she replies, patting him on the back.

“You too.” Fitz blushes. “And, uh, and this is Jemma.”

Jemma swallows hard and opens her mouth to speak, but her voice breaks into a squeak as she finds herself being engulfed in an enthusiastic hug by Fitz’s mum.

“Jemma, darling, I’m so glad you could come all the way here. And here I was thinking I’d never meet you until the wedding,” Eva says with a playful but welcoming smile.

“Mum!”

“Oh, don’t ‘mum’ me! It’s bound to happen sooner or later anyway.”

“Of course,” Jemma chokes, her mind racing with panic. Marriage. She’d never thought about it, but suddenly the idea seemed like so much. Would Fitz ever ask? Would she be able to say yes?

Her panic eases down when Eva gives her another comforting smile, stroking her face with calloused fingers and tucking a few loose strands of hair behind her ear. She leans her cheek against Eva’s hand on instinct, and for a moment it feels like being welcomed home. For a moment, she allows herself to think that maybe this is what having a mother would have been like.

“Now, you two must be very tired. Let’s go get you settled in.”

In the kitchen, Jemma removes her peacoat, and Eva clasps her hands together and nearly squeals. “Oh, how wonderful!”

“Oh, um… it’s…”

“Hmm, I’d say it’s at around fourteen weeks, yes? And it looks like a girl.” She reaches out and runs her hand gently over the bump. “Definitely a girl.”

“That’s what I told her,” Fitz says smugly.

“And I told _you_ , Fitz, that it’s too early to tell! But we can find out for sure at the next ultrasound.”

“Where we’ll find out that we’re right and it’s a girl.”

“Oh it’s a girl, alright,” Eva insists in a tone that leaves no room for further argument, prompting Fitz to nod solemnly like one of those dogs in car dashboards.

“My mum is right.”

“Please. I’m always right. Now come help me with dinner, there’s something I need to tell you two.”

* * *

Eva refuses to say a word about what she’d implied all the way through the preparation of the food, no matter how much they beg her.

Once they finish dinner, Eva brings out an English trifle served in an antique-looking deep glass bowl, which makes Jemma grin in appreciation.

“Oh, that’s lovely!”

“Both the recipe and the bowl were passed down to me by my Aunt Lilian from Belgium. That’s Princess Lilian by the way, as in the wife of King Leopold III. That’s where our dear Fitzy got his name.” She smiles teasingly and Jemma laughs, watching Fitz blush furiously.

“You could keep it dear,” Eva continues, carefully placing trifle slices onto their plates. “It’d be lovely for the cottage.”

“That’s so sweet of you, thank— wait, um, cottage?” Jemma looks to Fitz in confusion, and Fitz fixes his mum with a suspicious glare.

“Mum?”

Eva grins wickedly and reaches into her purse on the chair next to her, pulling out a few sheets of paper and sliding them across the table.

Four-bedroom, 2100 square feet cottage with a garden. Perthshire, Scotland.

“Mum?” Fitz repeats, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Surprise!” Eva cries, beaming. “It’s yours. I bought it for you. As a welcome-home gift.”

Fitz starts to open his mouth in protest, but Eva presses a finger to his lips.

“I know what you’re about to say, son. _‘But muuuuum, you shouldn’t have! This is too much, we’ll be fine on our own blah blah blah’_.”

“That’s not how I sound.”

“It’s kind of how you sound,” Jemma tells him.

Fitz pouts. “But it _is_ too much.”

“Too late now, it’s done,” Eva insists, scooping up some extra plates and bringing them to the sink. “I thought we could go see it tomorrow and help you move in.”

Fitz concedes. “Alright, Mum. Yeah. We’ll go see the place.” He stands and kisses her cheek. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Jemma repeats, giving Eva a hug.

Eva waves them both off. “It’s no trouble at all. Anything for family.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay with this chapter, but the next one will hopefully be up quicker.
> 
> Special shout-out to our friend Eva, tumblr's jemmasimmuns, who loves this fic so much that we decided to honor her with Fitz's mum. :)


	3. remember when we couldn't take the heat?

The rest of the day passes by lightly, with Eva making it her mission to show Jemma every single embarrassing picture of Fitz’s childhood, and Fitz trying hard not to blush and pout in mortification and failing spectacularly at it.

They’ve only just gotten into Fitz’s old bed, taking their usual places with Fitz behind Jemma, his arms wrapped around her and each of them joining one hand on her bump, before Jemma turns around and starts kissing all over his lips and his neck. She’d been content with the casual touches they’ve been sharing all day, but she’s long learned that being pressed up against Fitz is something that not even a well-trained spy can endure, and she soon gives up trying to resist the urge to touch him. 

She moves her kisses down his bare chest, stopping just above where his pyjama trousers get in her way, and she lightly strokes the tent she finds. Fitz lets out a loud moan, his head lolling backwards on the pillow, and then his eyes pop open and he freezes. 

“Jemma. We can’t do this here.”

Jemma pouts. “Why not?” 

“My _mum’s_ right in the same house—I—oh _god_ — _”_  

“Mmmm she’s not gonna hear us,” she dismisses, running her teeth lightly over the trail of dark hair just below his navel. “Besides, plenty of people have sex in their parents’ house.” 

“She will if you keep— _unggh,_ doing that.”

“So we can treat it as an experiment. See how quiet we can be.” She moves up to kiss him. “Could be pretty hot, actually.”

He moans into her mouth and she grins proudly, nipping slightly at his bottom lip as a reward. She means to continue teasing him but stops abruptly when she opens her eyes and finds a stuffed monkey staring at her from his headboard. 

“Shit,” Jemma pants, keeping her forehead pressed against his. “You’re right. This is too weird.” 

“You’re not afraid of my mum but you’re afraid of Mr. Bananas?” 

“Well your mum isn’t watching me with wide unblinking eyes!” 

“Aww come on Jem,” Fitz pleads, gripping her waist and pulling it back to grind against his. “Mr. Bananas has seen a lot of things in this room.”

Jemma lets out a soft whine. “The idea of _that_ isn’t helping me be less turned on.” She takes one more look down at Fitz’s bulging crotch and reaches up to turn the monkey around. “Fuck it. Let’s do this.”

Angling her torso away, Jemma starts slowly moving up and down, rubbing her hips against his and smiling at the feeling of slow friction that’s somehow getting to all of her nerve endings. 

It almost feels like a tease, getting right to the edge of where she wants but never quite getting there, but at the same time she finds that she’s strangely enjoying it. She switches to moving her hips in small circles and Fitz lets out the beginnings of a strangled moan, but she quickly slaps her hand over his mouth.

“Shh, quiet, remember?” she says, grinning in way that she knows to be seductive based on past experiences, and she can tell Fitz wants to groan again. She knows that look on his face.

So she reaches down and strokes him through his pyjamas again, longer and faster, and after a few strokes she dives into his trousers and wraps her hand around his cock. 

“Is this how you touch yourself, Fitz? When you’re alone in this room?” She starts moving her hand and Fitz’s head bobs up and down, nodding, not trusting himself to say yes without making any other sound. “Is this the kind of thing Mr. Bananas could show me?” 

“Yes,” Fitz finally chokes out, and then he reciprocates, pressing the heel of his hand into her, and Jemma has to stifle a noise of her own. 

“ _Fuck_ , Jemma, I—god I want you.”

“I want you too, Fitz. So— _shit,_ so much.” Her voice breaks into a moan as he starts to rub faster, and she slants her mouth back against his to muffle the sound. “Fitz, I’m so close.” 

He responds by moving his hands to her waist and pressing his erection right against her center, moving with slow but precise thrusts. He leaves a trail of open-mouthed kisses up the sensitive skin of her neck and jaw, then bites lightly at the spot below her ear, running the tip of his tongue over the mark right after. 

“That’s it, Jem,” he pants, voice breaking with exertion and the effort of trying to control his own impending climax. “Let go.” 

He kisses his way back to her lips and lingers there, caressing her mouth with his softly, so softly, and the tenderness of it all brings both of them over the edge, sighing and moaning their slow release into the silence of the room. 

After a few beats, Fitz nuzzles Jemma’s nose. “Quiet enough?” 

“That was amazing,” she replies, her eyes still closed in the afterglow. “Maybe we should do that more often.” 

“It _was_ nice,” Fitz agrees. 

“But tomorrow as soon as we’re alone in that house you’re fucking me and I’ll need that dick in me.” 

Said dick twitched a bit at the thought, and Fitz tried to will it to stay down. So he kisses Jemma one last time for the night, then moves down and presses his nightly kiss on her belly too. “Good night, Jemma.” 

She shifts onto her other side and fits herself comfortably in his arms, pressed against him, and takes his hand in hers to intertwine their fingers together to rest on the exact spot he’d just kissed. 

“Good night, Fitz.”

* * *

It’s three a.m. on a Saturday and they’re sitting in the kitchen of their new Perthshire cottage, pressed beside each other on the counter and sipping tea in their pyjamas, the radio playing softly in the background. The music melds seamlessly with the sound of the rain outside, but it is the most peaceful they’ve ever felt since leaving. Since coming home. 

The almost unfamiliar sense of quiet makes Jemma smile, and Fitz gently nudges her shoulder with his.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, and she wraps her arms around his left one, resting her chin on his shoulder. 

“You.”                   

And she is. She’s thinking about how he means everything to her now. Permanence. Peace. Safety. And more, and more, and so much more. 

She presses her lips to his cheek and lingers, inhaling the scent of their home and of him—warm, solid, sweet, sweet Fitz—stamping every detail to memory. 

His skin crinkles into a smile beneath her lips, and she feels him slide his hand to hers and entwine their fingers together. She snuggles closer to him and hums to the song playing on the radio, an easy melody she remembers from her childhood back in England. He keeps their hands intertwined but after a while, she feels him squeeze tighter in time with a particularly deep inhale, and she knows he’s overthinking something. 

Fitz turns his head slightly to kiss her temple, then tilts her chin up to meet her eyes.

“Jemma,” he starts breathily, taking her hands in both of his and shaking a little. “Will you… um...” 

Jemma pulls back her hands from his quivering grasp and cups his face. “Fitz, look at me. It's okay.” 

He swallows then looks up with a look of determination, eyes fixed intently on hers but darting occasionally to her lips and her nose and the patch of freckles on her cheeks. Finally he speaks up, voice still shaking but now with a firmer sense of purpose. 

“Dance with me.”

She smiles and kisses his nose. _Adorable._ “Come on then, Dr. Fitzy.” She takes his hand and they position themselves, then start swaying to the music. 

The juvenile nature of the activity isn’t lost on her, and she can’t help but giggle at the memory of them dry humping like teenagers just the night before, and fucking roughly just a few hours ago. It makes her feel strangely… _happy_ , and she knows she just has to let him know. 

“Fitz?” she whispers against his chest, and he hums in response. 

“You do know that I chose you, right? I didn’t—our situation didn’t really give me much of a choice, but I still chose you. And I need you to know that.” 

“I know. I chose you too. And I’d choose you again, over and over. I’ll always choose you.” 

She rests her head on his shoulder. “I’m glad we’re here.” 

“Me too. This is a nice house.” 

“No, I mean—well, that too but I mean here. Together.” 

“Oh.”

She feels his chuckle reverberate in his chest and it reinforces her sense of peace, of home, and she smiles contentedly because finally, despite everything else, Jemma Simmons is proud of her choices.


	4. all I know is a newfound grace

A couple of days before Christmas, Jemma learns that waking up to a stuffy, runny nose and a baby just starting to kick is not a fun experience.

She sneezes and coughs and rubs her stomach and heads out to the kitchen, where she finds Fitz with a bowl of cereal. He freezes when he sees her, pale, swaying, shivering, and shuffling her feet to conserve the energy of lifting them.

“Jem, are you okay?”

She waves a hand at him. “I’m fine. Just a cold, I think,” and she coughs loudly again.

Fitz is by her side in seconds, ushering her to sit down on the couch. “Right there, yeah, sit down and I’ll bring you something to eat.” He spreads a blanket over her and tucks it in tight around her.

“You don’t have to do that. I can get my own.” Jemma pushes the blanket back and starts to rise, but she’s slow and weak from the illness, and it’s easy for Fitz to gently push her back down.

“Jemma. Please let me do this for you.”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh Fitz, stop acting like an overprotective boyfriend.”

Fitz’s heart sinks. Of course she wouldn’t want him to act like a boyfriend. He knows he essentially is exactly that—after all, they did run away together, live together, and are having a baby together. Still, he also knows that even after all that, boyfriend behavior scares her.

He opens his mouth to apologize, but she continues, “I just want you to be a _normal_ boyfriend.”

His previously sunken heart leaps all the way from his feet up to the sky, and he can’t stop the grin that comes up on his face.

_She’s okay with the word boyfriend now._

“Well, this is what normal boyfriends do for their girlfriends,” he counters. “I’ve done the research.”

“Of course you have,” she laughs with a smile.

“So. Please let me do this, then.”

She notes the look on his face. It’s similar to the one he usually wears, full of love, and now it’s mixed with concern. She slowly nods, and Fitz sighs in relief.

He returns with a bagel and a heated pad. “I’m making you chicken noodle soup too,” he says, placing the pad on her forehead. “When that’s ready I’ll run to the pharmacy and find pregnancy-safe cold medicine, yeah?”

Jemma shakes her head as fast as she can without the cold making her dizzy. “No. No, that’s too much! I don’t want to owe you anything. I can take care of myself, I’ve done it plenty of times before.”

“But now you don’t have to,” Fitz says. “And why would you owe me anything?”

“Why are you doing this for me?”

Fitz shrugs. “What else am I supposed to do?”

“Is this because I’m pregnant?” she demands. “If you think my ability to take care of myself is at all impacted just because there’s a fetus in my womb—”

“Whoa, whoa, Jemma, no, why would you think that? It’s because I care about you. And you’re sick and I want to take care of you until you feel better.”

Jemma bursts into tears.

Fitz sits next to her and wraps an arm around her shoulders and Jemma leans into him, resting his head in the crook of his neck and cradling her bump. Fitz gently rubs her arm for comfort. “I told you I love you,” he says. “This is what you do when you love people. You take care of them, and you want to.”

“I’m sorry. I guess I’m still trying to get used to that. No one’s ever done anything like this for me before—it’s always been just me.”

“Well, it never will be again. I’ll be here. Our daughter will be here.”

She kisses his cheek. “Thank you, Fitz.”

“Anytime, Jemma. Always.”

“I still feel like I owe you, though.”

“Hmm.” Fitz pretends to consider that for a moment. “Well, you don’t, but alright. I’ll tell you what you can do, if it makes you feel better. You can carry our baby.” He grins, proud of himself, and rubs her belly, and Jemma laughs, which turns into a cough.

Fitz kisses the remnants of her tears away. “Eat your breakfast and get some rest. I’ll go get the medicine for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christmas chapter up next! (Which may be posted just after Christmas, but we'll try to get it out before.)


	5. are we out of the woods?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 2016! To celebrate the new year and Taylor Swift's new music video (lmao), here's a new chapter! It's been more than a year since we started the HYDRA AU, and as always, we are so, so very grateful to everyone who's been supporting this series. We couldn't have done it without your encouragement. :)
> 
> Here's to new beginnings, and more frequent updates. (Hopefully.)

On the last morning of the year, a still-recovering Jemma wakes up to a crashing noise from the living room. She buries her face in her pillow for a few moments in an attempt to muffle out the sound, but the baby makes a faint kicking motion in her belly and she struggles to sit up. 

“Okay, baby, you win, let’s see what kind of trouble your father got himself up to this time.” 

She stretches her limbs, willing to muster the energy she usually has early in the morning, and pads along toward the living room, where she finds Fitz tangled in a massive sheet of tarpaulin fabric on the floor.

“Fitz? What the hell?” 

After a bit of rustling, Fitz’s head pokes out from the material, and he gapes at her in guilt.

“Well, it’s our baby’s first New Year’s, isn’t it? I want it to be special.” He frees one of his arms and gestures to the giant sheets surrounding him.

Jemma rolls her eyes. “Fitz, just as it wasn’t her first Christmas, it also doesn’t count as her first New Year’s if she isn’t born yet.” 

“Of course it does! We need to make memories for her, you know.” 

“Yes, it’s rather difficult to remember events that happened before your birth.”

“If I may remind you,” Fitz pauses from wriggling furiously to pout at her, and Jemma concludes that her boyfriend is most adorable when he’s trying to prove her wrong. “My daughter is a genius and will surely remember every detail of her first holiday season, and so we have to make it very nice for her.”

“And next year, I’ll help you out.”

“You’re just a Scrooge,” Fitz declares with another pout. “I won’t let you ruin my baby’s New Year.”

Jemma leans down and kisses his nose. “Adorable. Well _your_ baby wants to eat now, so if you can find your way out of that and help me with breakfast, that’d be great.” 

A bit more rustling and Fitz’s limbs flailing later, he manages to untagle himself and winds up lying facedown in a heap on the floor, his shirt ridden up so that it’s bunched up under his arms. Jemma raises her eyebrows in amusement.

“ ’M out.”

“Come on.” She extends her hand and pulls him to his feet.

“French toast?” Fitz asks hopefully, following her into the kitchen.

A few minutes later, Jemma digs through a massive heap of French toast with whipped cream and all her favorite fruits, while Fitz watches her from across the table, chin propped up with his hands.

Jemma stops in the middle of drizzling blueberry syrup on top of her stack. “What are you looking at me like that for? Why aren’t you eating?”

“I like...watching you,” he says, shrugging. “You’re pretty.”

Jemma blushes despite herself at that and playfully kicks Fitz’s foot under the table. “You’re an idiot.”

“An idiot you chose to live with.” He gives her a shit-eating grin. “Can’t say I know why, but…”

“It’s because you’re _my_ idiot.” She leans across the table to give him a peck but when she moves to pull back, Fitz threads his fingers through her hair and kisses her more deeply, still grinning against her mouth. He licks the whipped cream from her lips and Jemma sighs, parting her lips slightly to welcome him.

—

“Ta-da!” Fitz exclaims, and Jemma glances up from her book. “I got the banner up!”

A large banner reading BABY’S FIRST NEW YEAR now stretches across their living room, and Fitz proudly shows it off Vanna White-style.

Walking over to stand near the base of his ladder, Jemma opens her mouth to remind him again of the banner’s inaccuracy, but just then a loud, gunshot-like sound rings out.

Jemma jumps. Her hands fly to her belly on instinct and she bends over it to protect it, her eyes widen, and she starts trembling and breathing heavily. Her knees almost give out but Fitz runs fast enough to catch her.

“Jemma! Jemma what’s wrong?”

“I’m f-fine, Fitz.” She exhales, closing her eyes tightly and trying to focus on her breathing, still shaking in Fitz’s grasp. But then she remembers something and she opens them again, looking to Fitz in panic.

“The door... did you lock the door? Is it… did the alarms go off? Are they working? Mayb-maybe we should check the cameras.”

“It was a firework, Jem,” Fitz says quietly, rubbing her back. “But the door’s locked, and I can check the cameras if you want.”

“But are you- are you sure?” she pants, fingers of one hand gripping his forearms like an anchor, fingers of the other splayed firmly over her bump, willing her mind to stay grounded in the present, in him, rather than wander to the images she’s been trying to ward off in her dreams.

Fitz holds her tighter, rocking with her back and forth as she steadies her breaths along with his heartbeat and his gentle kisses across her face and her hair and his reassuring whispers of _you’re safe,_ _we’re safe, we’ll be fine_.

“I think I’m okay now,” she says finally, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I...thank you. Sorry about that. You don’t have to check the cameras, it was just a firework, it’s silly.”

Fitz takes both of her hands and presses his lips to her knuckles, then rubs his thumbs comfortingly over them.

“Does this happen often?”

“Sometimes,” Jemma admits. “This wasn’t as bad as some of the others.”

“Not as—” Fitz runs his hands down his face in disbelief. “Jemma, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it’s stupid.” Jemma mumbles, eyes fixed on her hands on her lap.

“Hey. Look at me, baby girl.” Fitz tilts her chin up, cups her cheek in one hand, and meets her eyes. “We’re going to be okay.” 

He places a kiss on her forehead. 

“This baby will be safe.”

On her nose.

“We’ll keep her safe.”

On both of her cheeks.

“I love you, Jemma. And we’re going to survive this. Together.” He presses one, two, three quick pecks on her lips then kisses her more deeply, slowly, like they have all the time in the world.

And they do.

It’s a new year, in a new house, and a new life. And they do.


End file.
